This book is a thorough overview of the work of Balthus (b. 1908), the elusive painter whose fascinating images of young women were first greatly admired by the Surrealists, and have remained so today. This controversial artist is exceedingly reclusive, and until the last decade rarely gave interviews or allowed himself to be photographed. As a result, both his life and his work have been the subject of much intrigue and speculation. Now, his eldest son, Stanislas Klossowski de Rola, offers privileged insights into the art and thought of this remarkable man. Here is the widest selection of Balthus's work ever landscapes, street scenes, still lifes, and women, from the 1930s to the present, including all his most important paintings of the last ten years. A unique collection of rare photographs presents the young Balthus in his studio, as well as in recent images taken by his friend Henri Cartier-Bresson and other photographers. The art of Balthus - private, hermetic, evocative, mysterious - lends itself to both deep readings and simple appreciation. The artist himself has always resisted the former, remaining convinced that the paintings should speak for themselves. But, bowing to the demands of a career that has encompassed major retrospective exhibitions at the Tate Gallery, London, and The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, he has assisted his son in the creation of this book.
While the subject matter within the artwork that Balthus creates is not to my personal preference - I still learned more about this business of being a professional artist by reading this book and becoming aware of how another artist thinks about artwork and art careers.
the essay is pretty short but very impactful. i admire how he loved art until the very very end and treated the act of painting as something that transcends life. not sure if i agree with his idea that his subject matter and style has no deeper meaning, it is fishy that he was so heavily influenced by eastern styles and painted a lot of nude women and rarely any nude men, reminds me of john currin